A Promise Broken
by classykazmiller25
Summary: An OC based novelization of Naughty Dog's critically acclaimed video game " The Last Of Us." Will eventually tie in with main storyline.


Hello.

Maybe you remember me from The Other Sanderson. Maybe you just like The Last Of Us. But I'm back after month upon month of inactivty, and I'm here to deliver. This is it. Weeks on end of preparation have led to this. Enjoy.

* * *

CRASH!

Ugh...Christ...that doesn't look natural...

The guy lying next to was dead; very dead indeed. His head was under his body, having landed on his face backwards, bending his neck and snapping it. Well, at least he doesn't have to see how ugly his ass looks. I'd landed on some scaffolding, only suffering various cuts over my body from shards of glass that littered the ground. I slid down one of the beams, landing rather safely on the floor down below. The injuries I'd sustained were minor; no need to waste supplies on them. My pistol was still in my waistband, machete dangling from my hip and an M2 Gerber in my thigh holster.

Walking over to the disfigured corpse, I checked his pockets for anything useful, relieving him of a few .45 ACP rounds that were in his breast pockets. My blue denim button up was stained with blood and crusted with dirt, but still served it's role as clothing. Unlike his white tank top, which has huge burn marks and rips, which were consistent with the scars on his body. I turned his head back up, seeing the look of shock and terror plastered on his still face. Would almost feel bad for the bastard, if he hadn't tried to fucking kill me.

Emptying the magazine and putting 5 more rounds into my pistol, the next destination was my nest. Judging by the last event that took place, I'd say it's no longer safe to live there. I made my way up the ladder, grabbing my knapsack, and putting my gear into place. My Model 1873 was laid up against the window, loaded with ten thirty-ought rounds and one more in the chamber. I grabbed it, gripping it tightly in my hands as I descended down the stairs this time.

The red bandana over the lower half of my face was a bit dusty, but it did it's job as a concealment for my face. I scanned the area with my rifle, the broken up city was riddled with destruction, and bodies covered the ground; some old, others were laid down within the week.

I walked unto a roof top, knowing that this type of travel was much safer then the ground. Rifle secured in a holster between my knapsack and back, I sprinted, gaining the momentum to land a successful landing on the next building. I repeated this process, until I was presented a problem; to much space was between these 2 houses. I could take my chances on the Road...or take the leap. I took a breath, cracked my neck, and decided to take the latter option. The distance turned out to be the least of my worries...as when I grabbed the next ceiling, it ripped loose and came out, sending me down. I spun in midair, yelling out in surprise whilst searching for a handhold. An open window seemed to be my saviour, but-

"Argh!"

Shards of glass pierced and slashed open my right hand, coating the window pane with blood. But I persevered, pulling up despite the pain ripping into my palm. The kitchen was dark, moonlight spilling rather beautifully into the room. I sat against the wall, wrapping my right hand in guaze after having cleaned it with peroxide.

_Rak-Rak, Raaaaak._

Oh my sweet Jesus...

_**Clicker. Here.**_

I silently drew my knife, holding it in my weaker, but uninjured hand. The bastard had to be here somewher-

RAAAAAK!

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, seeing the infected beast walking towards me. I struggled to stand up and stab at the same time. losing my balance and falling unto the ground. It fell with me, snapping at my face. I cut it's cheeks open, revealing it's jagged, rotten teeth as it's maw tried to rip my face open. I flailed, putting my feet against it's abdomen and sending it out the window. It screeched on it's way down, abruptly stopping after it's spinal cord snapped in several places on the asphalt. I took a brief look down, seeing more infected were now congregating near the splattered body, clicking and grunting with feral interest.

I pulled out my rifle, checking the rooms for any more threats the may inhabit my new house. Nothing living besides me and a few roaches were here. I closed the door behind me, and took off my bag, putting the blade underneath a pillow. My weapons were stashed underneath the bed and a placed a bookcase against the door. After today, I could use a nap.

* * *

CRACK, CRACK, BASH!

The wooden door downstairs splintered open, only to be accompanied by an explosion and screams. They didn't even check the door for my pipe bomb booby trap, wired underneath in the frame and set to explode nearly an instant after being triggered. I slowly got out of bed, pulling on my boots, bag, and my rifle. I silently moved the miniature library away from the entrance. I pushed the door open, knife at the ready in my slightly better hand. 2 aspirins muffled the pain, but it still stung.

I could here the shuffling of boots down the hall, and saw a shadow slowly approaching from the beginning of it. I tensed, waiting patiently for them to come. The shotgun's barrel pointed inside briefly, before I grabbed it by the base, grasping her wrist and dragging the hostile into the room. Quickly, before she could scream out for help, I clamped my hand over the girl's mouth and held my knife at her throat.

"How many of you are here?" I whispered harshly, "Blink for every one who's alive."

_Blink, blink, blink, blink._

"Thanks."

I replied, lacking emotion as I slashed her throat open. Blood gushed through my fingers from her mouth, and she had a weak pleading look in her glazed over eyes. The words that she wanted to say came out as wet gurgles and shudders of the body.

I advanced downstairs, rifle pointed straight out. I traveled down the stairs, my muzzle acting as a pointer stick to deter anyone foolish enough to attack me. I saw two of them conversing, one guy holding a baseball bat with the other girl wielding a Lupara.

"Isn't Emily taking a bit long?" The girl inquired, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Yeah; I'll check it out." The dude responded, turning in my direction before his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

"Oh fu-" he began, but the sound of my rifle cracking drowning out his voice. The thirty-ought-six slug ripped into her skull, and I sprinted with my machete in hand. He swung at me but I sidestepped, digging into the ground with my heels. He took another chance to strike but missed again, and I embedded the black steel blade into his head. He clambered to his knees, and I kicked him off the razor sharp edge.

I bolted outside, seeing 2 more of them next to a car. Raising up my weapon, I sent a red hot round into the the first one's chest, swinging the action and firing off a second volley, shattering a window but not injuring the bandit. He popped out his head, sending a few bullets my way from his sidearm. They put holes into the door frame, one of them flying through my shoulder with a painful clarity.

He looked up again, but this time I took the intiative, blowing his brains out unto the ground.

The first one I'd shot was now on the floor, slowly dying while choking on his blood. He reached his hand up at me, shaking with a weak attempt at anger. I unholstered my Glock, putting his head into my sights and painting the ground a gaggingly dazzling display of red and pink.

_RAAAK, RAAK! RAAAAAK! _

"Shit.." I muttered underneath my breath, checking the bandit's pockets for the car keys. Clutching them, I swung closed the Toyota's door, turning on the ignition. 2 more robbers were sprinting my way, infected close on their tails.

I pushed the accelerator to the floor, turning at an angle and speeding away. I watched them get devoured in my rearview, holding the wheel with white stressed knuckles.


End file.
